Forbidden
by mikaera
Summary: Goes after 'You're Back'. Now it's another person who, after many years, tells his pov of a new situation. A situation when he finally knows something that has been forbidden for him for all his life, by no one else than his own father.
1. Prologue

**Finally! Hello everyone. This is the third part of my trilogy, which still doesn't have a name but will have it soon. This part is called 'Forbidden', and I really hope you enjoy it. **

**Good luck and please I'll be waiting for reviews!**

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Forbidden.

Prologue.

I'm sleepy. I want to sleep, I've just arrived from my friend's house and I only think about sleeping. I lay on the sofa, my feet on the air, my head on a cushion I found somewhere. It's comfortable, everything's in silence, I can only hear the birds outside, and my father's fingers typing on his laptop, but those sound so distant. He's on another room.

I'm alone with him today. Mom left Naha because she had a meeting with some writers tonight, so she'll be back tomorrow. As I am an only child, I have many advantages when I stay alone with dad. Not that he's the type of dad that will take me to have fun somewhere, but he'll cook for me, he'll let me stay up to the time I want to stay, he may let me drink some alcohol too, during dinner.

I sigh, and stare at the wall beside me. There I can see a poster of a world map. My eyes fly from London to North and South America, Africa, Europe, Australia, South Asia, but… in the end I realize how none of those places catch my attention more than north Asia and the huge country that has been forbidden.

One of my teachers at school explained some day the fact that the forbidden things are the ones which catch your attention the most. That country is the one that I've longed to know since I have memory, and it's not that I know the rest of the countries because in fact, I have only been here in England, I haven't even traveled around my mother country to say that I've visited something.

It's just that curious feeling I can't avoid, each time I stare at that map on the wall. I need to know it, I need to go to Russia and it's a feeling that, I guess, started since my father said a simple word: NO.

How a slight 'No' coming from my father, started this burning fire that I feel inside my chest each time the word 'Russia' is pronounced, is a question I've still got to answer. One of the many questions, that is. I know more about my best friend's family than about my own.

'You have a mother, a father and you're an only child.' That simple, as my father told me. He's a man of no words, he's someone that will keep himself to himself just like my mother. I don't even know when they met, where they met. My _classmates_, because I'm not sure if I should call them _friends,_ talk about how they parents married, some of them because the girl was pregnant and so they had to get married, some of them because they loved each other, some of them because their grandparents forced them to. Then I know nothing about my grandparents.

My mother's parents are alive, and they also have another son who is my uncle, who's leaving with them. He's five years younger than my mother, who now is thirty-three years old. That means my parents were just teenagers when I was born, she was eighteen and he was nineteen. They were my age.

My eyes close on their own. I don't want to force myself awake, there's no need to stay awake as it's Friday and tomorrow there's no school, I have no homework to do. Bah, who cares about homework anyway?

When I realize I'm drifting into a strange dream of an old train and people hurriedly getting in and out of it, in a station in the middle of nowhere, something pushes me back to reality. It's a telephone ringing.

I sit down and scratch the back of my head. I frown and realize my father is no longer typing, but I can hear the water falling so he must be having a shower. I'm not waiting for any call and he also forbids me to answer any call unless I'm waiting for someone. I walk to the phone, that dream of the train left me thinking something I can't describe clearly.

I stare at the call detector, and analyze the number. I have dedicated as much time as you can't imagine to study everything about the thing that interests me the most: 7-095 … that can only mean one thing. The call is from Russia, exactly Moscow. Suddenly I wonder what will happen if I answer. No one told me I can't answer the calls from that country, I guess my father never thought he would get a call from that country…

I grab the tube, but I don't pick it up until it rings for a third time. Someone there might be in danger, someone there might need help… a _Russian_, is waiting for someone in this house to pick up the phone and say…

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hiwatari family? It's you Kai? You still remember me, right?" too many words for my confused mind. I dump the phone down where it was before and try to calm my breathing. It's faster than ever and I know I'm scared, I'm too damn scared. _Scared._ About a caller? About someone who's far away from me and can't do me any harm?

I slap my own face. _'You had the opportunity to talk with a Russian or at least with someone calling from Russia, something you've longed for years and you're scared and lost the opportunity?!'_ my mind shouts.

And it's when I'm about slapping myself for the second time when the phone rings again. I gasp and my heart starts beating faster than before. But I have no time to doubt it, or the caller will stop dialing our number. I pick up the phone and answer.

"Yeah?"

"Kai Hiwatari, are you?" this time the speaker is using Russian to talk to me. But I have no problem with that, I am self-taught with the language and I manage pretty well.

"…_nyet_." I have to say the truth. If they're looking for my father, then I'll let them talk to him.

"Please, I want to talk to Kai Hiwatari." He keeps talking in Russian, he sounds surprised that I'm not my dad but I still have the language. The voice is kinda rude, it must be someone who knows my dad because he insists on talking to him as if he had to tell him something very important.

"He's not available in this mo-" a heavy hand on my shoulder stops my sentence, stops my breath and my heart beating. I know who's hand is, and right now there is nothing else that can get me more scared… than my father finding out I've talked to a Russian.

"Gou Alexander Hiwatari, hand me the phone and go to your room." He doesn't have to specify he is mad at me, and he wants no answer from me. I walk away, but I always keep my head up, no matter how hard my dad can be at me. I hear him talk in Russian for the first time in my life. That sound is stronger than any words he may have said to me, I stop as I turn round the corner and listen carefully. In seven hells I would lose this.

"_Da?_" … "What do you need?" …"No. That can't be true. This can't be happening." …. "Okay… okay the flight takes some hours but I'll be there as soon as possible."… "Yeah thank me when I get there… Please tell her to hold on… tell her to hold on…"

My dad's face changed radically during the conversation. And I can swear I never saw him so scared.

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**review!**

**mikaera.**


	2. Expectations

**Finally! Sorry for the delay. Well this chapter was very hard to write. But the next ones will not be that hard, I promise! I'm going to publish a real novel soon. YAY I need to tell this to everybody!. It'll be based in this one, but I'll obviously change the characters and situations. It'll be published in Spanish, coz it's my mother language and it'll be my first. About this one, well, it's for Rina, hunny thank you for waiting for this chapter:)**

**I hope you like it and keep reviewing. **

Forbidden

Chapter 1: Expectations

Afterwards, my father is grabbing the usual, small bag he always carries with him, and putting some stuff into it: money, one or two shirts, and the necessary papers. He stares at me and sighs, then he rushes to his room, and comes back again. Something serious is up, I can't tell exactly what is it but there's something wrong with him. Something that definitely has to do with Russia, mainly with that call.

Finally he speaks to me. "Grab some cloth, not many, and some money. We're leaving to Russia."

I stare at him and raise my brow questioningly. But I don't have to ask anything, I have to do exactly what he did. I rush to my room and put a shirt and some money inside my Linkin Park bag. I pause when I get to the door, and stare at my room.

I frown, I know I'm forgetting something and I know exactly what is that, but still, my father's words play themselves on my head… 'some cloth, not many, and some money'. I can't leave my notebook; I grab it together with a pen, and put them in my bag too. Those are things I'll never leave behind.

When I enter the kitchen, I hear my dad already started the car engine. I don't understand a thing but I go to the garage and get into the car. My father closes the main door, and minutes later we're driving down the main street.

As it's half past two in the morning, there are no cars in the road. My dad always likes to drive fast but this time he's driving even faster, whatever is happening in Russia has him worried.

He parks the car in the airport's parking. He hurriedly gets out of it, and I have to run behind in order to get him. "Dad! Wait! I need you to-"

"You'll get explanations later Gou we still have many hours to get there and I don't want to lose time." he says in one breath.

Entering the airport lobby, he hands the papers and passports to an assistant, who stares at me for a while and then stays something to my father in a low voice. He answers, and I can feel how he makes an effort not to show a single emotion. He follows the woman who walks ahead with a sensitive expression, and I follow him. I've never traveled but I have been in the airport, and I can swear I never saw it so empty.

About an hour later we're sitting inside a plane. It's emptier than usual, there must be around ten people apart from us, and besides, it's not a big plane those I saw my mother leave so many times for the so many conferences she has.

I'm sitting next to my father, and this must be the second time that the flight-attendant comes to offer him something to eat or drink. As he doesn't take anything, I understand it's not okay to do so, and I shake my head when she stares at me.

Then I take a deep breath and once she leaves, my eyes stare at my father. He's a tough man… he's someone who has came across unlikely experiences he wouldn't share with anybody. Even my mother has been kept aside from his personal life, I'm not sure she knows everything about him as she told me some days ago.

After ten minutes that my eyes pierce his, questioningly and demanding, he blinks slowly and exhales the air in his lungs as he pronounces my name… "Gou.."

"Yes father?" I answer immediately, I don't want to delay whatever he wants or needs to tell me. I am haunting a knowledge that until now seemed to be out of my reach.

"I'm not quite sure if I should take you with me, but I'm less sure of leaving you alone at home. Besides, this is an issue you must take responsibility for. You are old enough, with eighteen years old your mother got pregnant."

"What is it dad?" I inquire, I need to know this, it sounds as an important subject and I've always been interested in these kind of topics.

"You should've asked _something else_ before. Let's do something, Gou. You will make me three questions. Then we both should sleep." He explains his rules, treating with dad has always had the same disadvantage, it's his rules or nothing. Then I find out that most of the times that's for my own good.

"Only three? I have many things to ask…" I complain. But when I finish talking, I cover my mouth with both hands and try to deny the question… but for dad it's too late.

"There it goes one. Yes, only three."

Damn. I wonder where did my father got all that intelligence of him from. He seems to know everything, how to talk to me, how to show me these essentials I'm missing as for being a teenager. Now I have to carefully plan all my two questions. I take a deep breath. There's something that I can't remove from my mind, I have to ask it now. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to Russia." Fuck. I knew my father wouldn't give me a detailful explanation of our destiny, so why was I so blunt in my question? It was pretty obvious that we were going to Russia, as I don't know about any other country that my father could be so concerned about and from which he could receive a so strange call.

Well that makes two questions. "Why?" as soon as it comes to my mind I ask it, forgetting about the simple answers of my father. In fact, his answer is some kind of "Because of the call I received, now I'll sleep, and advice you to do the same as we're not going to have that much time to do it later."

He closes his eyes and I don't hear him speak a word during the rest of the flight, not even when the flight assistant comes to offer him something to eat or drink.

I try to sleep, but that's not possible with all these things around my head. I'd never be possible. I glance at the window, and minutes, maybe hours later I finally can see something that looks familiar in the distance. I frown, and when I'm about guessing what it's about my father opens his eyes with a sudden movement of his head, turning to the window.

"I didn't know you were awake." I say, surprised by his reaction.

"We're about landing." In fact, the lights that tell you when to put your seatbelts turn on, and the woman that interrupted us twice speaks on the microphone, telling the passengers to get ready, as we're arriving in Moscow at 10am, and the outside temperature is of 3º C.

I pay attention to the screen some seats ahead of mine, and notice how the numbers that show the outside temperature start descending, as well as the distance from the floor, and the speed. When I look back at the window I can see some cupolas, it's raining softly, the pouring rain washes away every evil sign.

Then it hits me, I'm finally here, when I get off the plane I'll be standing in my appreciated Russian land. It sounds amazing and thrilling at the same time. Whereas, my father seems so calm. He has been here before, I'm sure about that, but what I don't know is how much time passed since he came for the last time. Was he a youth? Had I been born?

I only know one thing: that we were coming to Russia. Because of my stupid curiosity that drove me through the immediate way and I couldn't ask the proper questions, now I don't know who are we going to meet or how long are we going to stay and where, why didn't I ask these things before?

I sigh and then feel the pressure in my chest, proper of the landing. The turbines start doing a different sound, the breaks in the wings open suddenly so to stop the machine, and soon I feel the rail below us.

My father seems so quiet, so accustomed to this kind of experiences. It can be whether because he traveled a lot when he was younger, or because he's too anxious or nervous to show any emotion.

Once the plane is stopped, we're told to pick up our personal belongings and descend. I walk slowly behind my father, I can't get to the idea that I have just got to my main aim in life.

But strangely, ahead me walks a man who doesn't care about being in Russia. Who clearly sees something I don't, and knows something I don't. Someone who's evidently concerned about deeper things than a great country, something is not right here, I can see it in my father's eyes. In the way he behaves.

He runs past the people, and I try to follow apologizing to the ones he pushes away and forgets. He enters a large building and immediately asks for a taxi, which drives us to the train station. Once there, what took about twenty minutes, I regret not having time to admire the splendid architecture but yet, there is something else to worry about, something that could be the strange and intriguing story I've always hoped to be in.

We board the first train to a city which name is difficult and starts with 'S'. My father tells me that the trip will take some hours too, and once again advices me to sleep. He doesn't, so I don't. His fiery eyes are full of anger and frustration, I can tell he's feeling impotence but then…

"What are you looking at?"

"N-nothing dad it's just that.."

"I'm fine. Seriously I'm fine Gou." There are things about my father I'll never understand. He actually read my eyes, he knew I was worried for him but yet he won't let me know what goes through his mind.

Three hours later the train is stopping for the second time. The first time I thought we had arrived, but my father didn't move a single hair. Oh but he glanced at the window and I could swear I saw the slightest glimpse of a smile draw itself in his lips. I wonder what came to his mind.

Now it's not raining anymore, now it's snowing, and it is one of the hardest storms I had ever seen. My father is wearing only a sweater and his scarf, while I have a coat on but I'm still cold. I won't show weakness.

It's when I accept, resigned, that we're not in our destiny yet, that I notice everybody has got off the car and my dad's waiting for me in the door. I bite my tongue not to say anything out of place, and walk next to him.

His next act surprise me even more than the fact that I'm walking in the middle of a storm, in Russia, with the temperature now being of 0ºC, with my father, and I have no idea of where I am. I feel the strong arm of my dad around my shoulders, his left hand grabs my left shoulder and he holds me tight to his body.

I stay still, unsure of how to react, then he lowers his head and kisses my forehead. After a long, undetermined silence he speaks for once,

"Gou, I want you to be silent in the first place okay? I'll tell you when to speak."

"Who are we-…"

"You know who." I have absolutely no idea of who could live under these climate conditions, but I decide to follow my father's game and nod slightly. "Come with me son." After these words he takes me down a street, we walk about ten blocks in absolute silence, and while I wonder what's in his mind by not asking for a taxi and walking through this storm as if we were in any rainy day in Japan, his hand in my shoulder holds me tighter it hurts, and I see his unemotional expression starts to change gradually into a serious frown.

We stop in front of an old, wooden door. If _this _is for what he took me here, then I'm sure I'll lose my interest in Russia very soon. Lights are on inside. Someone is there. I can see someone big approaching the door right after my father knocks it and calls. "Open the door!"

**TBC,**

**Review!**


	3. Unaware

**YAY! Thank you for your three reviews, sky d, bladz-Liska and dong-chun-mei! As a reward, here it's the next chapter. I couldn't wait to write it! Next one will probably be interesting too, first of all I hope you like this one. **

Forbidden

Chapter 2: Unaware

The shadow that I saw a minute before by the small window next to the door, now disappeared behind it, and it's turning the key. My father's grip tenses and he holds me closer to him, but as the door opens he removes his hand and walks ahead.

I have to bite my tongue not to ask who's the tall, rough, grey haired man of about sixty that's standing inside. I know I have to answer my every question by looking at my father. Anyone would say he's unreadable, but he's too obvious for the ones who know him. For the ones who pretend to be like him.

He hasn't stepped into the house still, he stands on one of the steps that come before the front door, and he seems to be mind-reading this man. They examine each other with piercing eyes, I almost feel that the old man's eyes get to me through my father's body.

On one hand, my father looks scared, just as if he was a kid. His hands are making the greatest effort not to tremble, and I can imagine his teeth are clenched not to shout or hit the stranger. He looks somewhat angry with him, as if he hadn't followed certain rule. I'm sure he knows him, it doesn't look like a first encounter.

On the other hand, the person who's opening the door to us, seems surprised and at the same glad of the visit. Is this the man I talked to on the phone? He wanted to talk to my father, so he probably is. Apart from that, I know nothing about him but I'm sure I will. His eyes are worried, something is happening to him and it has to do with my father.

Staring at his eyes I realize that it's no longer my father he's looking at, but this time his eyes are fixed in mine. I blink surprised and take a step back at his piercing eyes, he scares me, something is wrong here, I'd swear I've been under that look before. But I don't know this man, I must be confused. I stare at my feet unwillingly to put up my head again, I have a feeling in my throat that I don't like at all. Through my veins I feel a fire I hadn't ever felt before, something's not right, but then I see my father's feet take a step forward and enter the house.

"Good morning." He says, and absurdly the Russian language surprises me. The old man answers the same, my father turns his head to face me and nods. I don't have to realize anything, I already know he wants me to forget whatever this feeling of insecurity is, and follow him inside.

I keep my mouth shut, as I was told. But this stranger is not demanding as I thought he would be, he tries to give me and my father our space. As nobody speaks I feel uncomfortable and want to say something, only to bite my tongue again. Anything I could say would sound stupid.

Yet, nobody seems to know exactly what to say. In the silence we're able to recognize a cough that comes from somewhere inside the house. My father suddenly puts his head up and stares at the man, who's just a bit taller than him, and pierces his eyes once again. A slight nod I almost don't notice, and my dad is running through the living room, and disappearing round a corner as if he knew the house. Where are we?

Wherever that is, I have no intentions of staying alone with this stranger, in seven hells I would. He seems to inquire at me, wanting to know something about me, wanting to know who I am as much as I want to know about him. Yet I stand up abruptly and try to follow my father when a strong arm stops me, crossing right in front of me.

I'm paralyzed, my heart starts beating faster not because I don't know what to do, but because I have the weapons but I didn't think I would need them now. The arm of this old man is strong in fact, no weakness in his features or movements either, he could easily overpower me but there's the point: he won't.

I grab hold of his hand and try to push him away, I need to follow my father because I only know he turned round the corner but I know nothing after that. But his arm seems stronger now, I was not prepared for a strength like this right now, I try to move him but he seems so tough, so ready for anything.

I know I'm stronger than him. The word 'Dad' comes to my mind instinctively, I know my father is stronger than me and the stranger together, I know that if I shout that word he will come back from wherever he is and will do whatever is need to be done with him. But if I call him I will lose my pride in front of the stranger. I can't show weakness.

However, call it instinct or prudence, I see it as a playback movie, my father comes back from wherever he was and turns his head to the man. His eyes are now in the stranger, and I even stop my breath because of the tension I feel in the air.

"Some things never change, huh? Leave my Son alone. If he wants to come with me, he can." My father speaks as if he was the owner of this house. But he has always been that way, he takes possession of many things when the people he cares for are involved, he doesn't care who the owner is, respect is not even a word for him when something has to do with me.

But then what about his first phrase? _Some things never change_… that's something you say when you know the person you're talking to. Who is this man and what does he have to do with my father?

Still I do want to go with him. My father looks at me and nods, but I don't know if to take it as if he's allowing me to go with him, or he's telling me to stay because it's safe. It doesn't look safe, so I walk after my father.

This house is surely old, I don't think my father was here before, but he's acting as if he had. There he goes ahead me, knowing exactly where he goes to. He opens a door and enters to a bedroom. There is a double bed in the middle, and on the right side of it I can see an old woman.

She has dark hair in spite of the years, and her eyes hit me immediately. They're… I find myself unable to explain how they look at me. They're so alike my father, but the feeling is different. They're warm and her heart is opened. I can see she's very sad, but happy to see the man that now kneels beside her. I never imagined I'd see my father kneeling in front or next to someone, but I see it now, he's kneeling next to this woman, who definitely has something serious to do with him.

"Halina Nukomo." My father refers to her with her complete name. I can tell by her surname that she's not Russian, she's from Japan. I stay in the doorframe, but when I hear steps behind me and I realize who must be the one that approaches the room, I hurry to walk some steps further.

That's when I realize I'm not understanding half a thing. The woman on the bed laughs slightly, it's evident that she's making an effort; my father's reaction is surprise in the first place but then he smiles comprehensively as well, and grabs Halina's hand. When I turn to face the man he frowns and stares unaware at my father, who shakes his head and realizes that the woman looks at him disappointedly.

It's like a code, they're not telling me something I should've known before stepping inside the plane. The woman coughs again, I know she's weak. She is ill. I can see it in her eyes, she knows there is no much time left.

"So you chose to bring him too." Now it's even worse, the words pronounced by the woman say that she knows me from somewhere and I don't like the idea at all.

My father nods slightly, the answer is something like, 'glad you did' but I don't hear any longer. My attention is focused on the picture that's in the night table, on the left side of the bed.

There are a man, and a woman, who are holding a young boy of about three years old. I walk slowly, hoping no arm stops me this time, I need to see that picture carefully. Because if I'm not wrong, the one in the picture is me but who are these people I am with? It's not my father, he looks different, somehow. Because somehow he's similar too. And the woman definitely is not my mother. They're not even similar, though she's actually similar in attitude to the woman in the bed. I can tell it by the look on her eyes.

I pick up the photo and frown. 1994. I hadn't even been born in that year. Had my father? I don't remember exactly, wish I did. This is old, very old. Their expressions in the picture show happiness, they're having a good time together. But yet who are them?

"The same old moves, huh? Damn Kai, you and your son are so alike." The man speaks this time. His voice is not weak, but strong and determined. My father looks up at him, looks for something in his eyes and then smirks. Then I hear something from my father's mouth I had never heard before.

"I am proud of my son, Demyan." He speaks harshly, so every idea that came to my mind about the relationship of my father and this man has no sense when he calls him by his first name. I never call my father 'Kai'. He's simply 'dad' for me.

I'm wondering why none of them asked the stupid question of 'how is school going' yet. Every person who sees a teenager asks the same nonsense thing. Yet this two people seem so quiet, they understand everything by reading your eyes and your movements. I'll have to watch my back if this keeps going.

"Son, do you know who the people in the picture are?" my father asks, emphasizing the first word. Though I can't explain –yet- this change of voice tone, I shake my head and look at him, waiting for an answer that he gives me with another question. "What about that slight idea that came to your mind before, but faded when I called him Demyan?"

Fuck.

My father's question only gives me more doubts about it. I have to say it, or wait to confirm it. As for what my father just said, I'm not absolutely sure of what I thought in the first place but I'm not sure that any other idea could come to my mind.

I try to find it in their eyes, as they always do. And I choose the woman to start with. When I look at her I can see that something worries her and consumes her slightly, but I decide to avoid that thoughts of her, and go directly to what matters. I repeat my question in my head, 'is it you the woman in the photo?'

I can see how the muscles in her lids tense slightly, she knows I have the clue and I'm about to saying it when she speaks up. "Gou is smart, son."

It hits me suddenly, in spite of knowing the answer deep in my mind. This woman is my father's mother. This woman is the one who raised him up, this woman held my father in her arms, then taught her to walk, to speak, to read and write. She taught her about life, she embraced him – or not-, and it was hers the one he held when he needed a comforting hand. He lived here during his childhood, when he was a teenager and… well this one was his… home.

I can't believe that from a second to another I finally have the answers I was looking for. Well not all the answers, but a night around this house will be enough to find out the many mysteries I need to know about my father.

My father smiles and laughs almost inaudibly. I know he's having a good time but he won't express it, what the hell is in his mind this time?

"You can talk now, Gou… it was just for the beginning that I asked you not to." He says, then the woman smiles and caresses my father's hand. When I stare at them, I see how wrecked her skin is, and how fragile she is in this moment.

Then my father looks at me, and I know I will have the answers I need later. I turn to leave the room and so does Demyan, closing the door behind him.

**TBC,**

**Review!**


	4. Guilt

**Okay. Here is the next chapter. Sorry for the delay. I'm starting a new chapter of my life, so I'll hurry in finishing this story because it still belongs to the previous life chapter. You'll probably see the update next week, and it's two or three chapters left. Hope you like!**

Forbidden

Chapter 3: Guilt.

The feeling of this stranger walking right behind me is not comfortable at all. Knowing that he's my father's father doesn't make it better, in fact, I guess it only complicates things. An awkward silence takes place, I'd give anything to ran away.

I try to follow the steps that took me here, but instead of taking me to the living room, my feet take me to the small kitchen. The wooden table in the middle, rounded by three chairs, gives the impression of a warm scenery, which contrasts to the cold one the hallways show.

The man rounds the table and sits in one of the chairs. I stay still, against the door frame, and stare at him and wondering what goes behind those cold eyes. Those eyes that stare back at me with unreadable expression.

_What do you think about me?_

"Gou." I hear his demanding voice, and suddenly decode he's saying my name. I gasp and drive my eyes away from his, breaking the eye contact. I won't answer.

After my silence he speaks again. "Sit with me." An order again. Doesn't this man know how to say anything else? Doesn't he know how to offer or ask instead of demanding? Yet my feet don't seem to listen to my head. They take me next to the table, and I take a sit right in front of him.

Realizing I'll still have to face many of this uncomfortable silences I've been through since I walked into this house, I feel the need to use this time as much as I can. So I look at the man sitting in front of me, and part my lips to speak.

"Why didn't my father want me to come to Russia?" is the first question that comes to my mind. I ask it in a low voice because from here I can hear my father talking to the woman, and I'm not sure if I want him to know I'm asking about this.

However his answer is not helping at all, "Your father didn't want you to come to Russia, huh? Gou, this question is not for me to answer even if I knew the reason. You know your father better than me."

"Wait.. you're his father. You should know him, shouldn't you?"

"It sounds as if your father didn't tell you anything about his childhood, did you?" the man frown and folds his arms over his chest. What is he, playing with me? Of course I know my father. But he knows him better. Or do I?

I choose not to answer to his question. Instead I stand up and turn around. A noise in the door of the room my father's in interrupts any thought in my mind. There he comes, walking slowly. Something's seriously bad with him, yet I cannot describe exactly what's up. I know the woman he's been talking to, his mother, is going through some kind of illness of something like that. She's weak. But does this affect my father this much?

"Kai." The man sitting in the table calls his name, my father doesn't look up. He keeps his head down and walks in silence, towards another door in the back of the kitchen. I don't know what's behind that door but it looks like a corridor.

Demyan sighs, and tries to follow. Suddenly everything seems so predictable. Now my father will turn around and tell him not to, either with his eyes or with a single 'no'. Demyan will insists without words, but my father will keep his lone wolf attitude and walk away.

Yet for when I finish thinking about all the possibilities this situation may lead too, I see the back door of the kitchen closing behind the man and my father's ahead. He actually didn't stop him.

I have to see this.

I walk towards the door in complete silence, if I'm going to see this I won't be seen. The curtains on the window next to the door are slightly opened. I slowly get closer, and look outside. It seems to be a garden, everything's covered in ice and snow. My father and his father are walking away from the house, and the strange thing is my father doesn't seem to reject his company.

Another voice interrupts me. I can barely hear it 'cause it's very low. Then I remember the woman in the room. I turn to face the door of the room, and hurry to get to it.

"Kai…" she calls. I frown, and try to think. My father is in the garden with his father. And I'm here behind the door hearing her voice. I can't doubt about this. I open the door slowly and look at her.

"Kai… you heard me." I frown again… no, no I can't do this.. I have to call my father. I turn around and then she speaks again. "Kai… why are you leaving?"

I shook my head and turn to face her again. She shuts her eyes closed and moans, I find myself afraid of what's going to happen but I can't leave her alone…

I could try and call my father. But he wouldn't listen, he closed the garden door. Instead I choose to kneel next to the woman's bed and hold her hand in mine. My mind in white won't let me remember her name… I wish I could pronounce it right now just to see if I can bring her back to reality. She knows I'm not my father… but right now she's acting as if I were her 17 year old son.

"Kai… I'm sorry for letting you go… I'm sorry for letting your grandfather take you… I should've prevented it, I know I was not a good mother… please forgive me son… let me go in peace."

Something stuck in my throat won't let me speak.. this woman… this woman is dying. Since I cannot cry, this impotence I feel doesn't show so I look so cold for her. I tighten the hold on her hand hoping this will work…

"Son… take care of Gou. He's a good boy.. don't let him go wrong, promise you'll embrace him, will you? I know your father and I didn't take care of you enough… that's why I'm asking you not to make the same mistakes I did… don't trust anybody, son…"

I wish I could tell her I'm not Kai. I wish I could ask her what is she talking about, where did all this come from. But at the same time I know that there's not much time left, and I should let her speak.

"Won't you believe we didn't love you, right?"

Her question shocks me. I don't' know what to answer and I don't know if I should answer. Then I realize the best thing would've been telling her I was not her son, my father was.. I'm just..

I am…

"I'm your grandson."

"Yes Kai, you're my son. Won't you believe we didn't love you, right?"

Why is she listening to what she wants to and not to what I'm truly saying? Now I have to answer to this question and I have no idea what should I say. What did they do for my father to think they didn't love him?... "Why would I think that?" I cover my mouth with my free hand when I notice I've whispered that last sentence.

"Because of your past… because of all the suffering we know you went through… please, be mercy, son… please forgive me, let me rest in peace."

I can't answer… I'm not who she thinks I am… her eyes turn slowly to mine, and she seeks into them until I cannot take it anymore and force my eyelids shut.

"Kai? What's wrong? Never before you broke the eye contact before me…"

I knew she'd notice… her voice sounds so weak, everything on her is weak, and I really believe there is no time left.. she could slip away in any second…

"Kai… remember that everything I wrote about you is on the place where you found it on that November 9th… all the pictures, the things I wrote for you, everything's there… remember I never forgot you son, not even when your grandfather took you away from us, and I'll never forget you…"

"…Halina..? don't… don't die…" the words come out of my lips unconsciously, I should go to my father and tell him his mother's dying, but what if she passes by exactly when I leave to call them?

"I'll be okay son… I promise. Take care of Gou… tell him that he's a very smart youth… tell him to believe in what he thinks, and to fight for those ideals… tell him not to lose his aims, and don't put too much pressure on him.. he will know when to fight. I trust you, son. I know you will do what's right for your young Gou."

"Halina… hold.. hold on… I…" but as soon as I stand up to leave the room and call my father, the grip on my hand tightens, she doesn't want me to leave… I can't do anything against the pleading, weak expression on her eyes and I kneel back where I was.

I gulp hardly, and start pleading either for my dad to hurry up, or for her to stay longer. I can no longer hold the tears and they start running down my cheeks.. I never before was this close to someone's death… she… she's my grandmother. And she's dying right here before my eyes…

"Don't… don't worry Halina… Kai… Kai will forgive you. I'm sure. It doesn't matter what you've done… my father…"

But whatever I was going to say is interrupted by two men rushing through the door. "MOM!"

My father falls on the floor next to the bed at the time he holds her free hand, in the opposite side of the bed I was sitting. My father's father stands on the doorframe, his expression is unreadable again but this time I can see a deep sadness in his eyes.

The woman tightens both the grip on my hand and on my father's, who stares at her half-opened eyes with a horrified face.

"…Kai?" with the remaining air she manages a smile, and the eyes in which hours ago I saw the life, now close slowly in peaceful rest.

In the silence I hear my dad's fast breathing, together with Demyan's. I can sense the impotence they both feel. But most of all I can feel my father's unexplainable guilt.

**TBC,**

**Review! **


	5. Remembrance

**The more reviews I get, the sooner I update my dear readers. Thank you for continue reading this story, it's only a chapter and epilogue for this story to finish. YAY. It's being hard, but I promise to have it finished by Jan 13th if you review. **

**Hope you like! **

Forbidden.

Chapter 4: Remembrance 

"… _keep my books, my letters, my words. Remember my embrace, my eyes, my advice and anything else you want to remember from me. For the rest, burn it. Burn it all with me… and be happy. Remember I want you to be happy, there's nothing that could make me happier…"_

I don't know how is he able to read so coldly the words written by the person who slipped away two hours ago. I don't understand how my father, who at first seemed so desperate and concerned about her health, hasn't cried any drop yet. I don't understand why now I'm sitting in one of the chairs around the wooden table in the kitchen, at one side my father and at the other side his father, instead of doing what most people do when a relative dies. As far as I know, it's **not** normal to leave the dead person on the room and go and talk about her as if nothing had happened.

Actually we're not talking as if nothing had happened, what the old man is reading is the last thing she wrote before acknowledging she was dying.

My father listens carefully, and no expression shows behind those fire eyes of him. No tear escapes when he closes his eyelids to blink, no lower lip he bites, he doesn't even seem to have that uncomfortable feeling you have on your throat when you want to cry but won't allow yourself to do so.

He just sits there, arms folded over his chest, eyes opened naturally, firmly staring my grandfather's as the old man reads one of the many papers that still wait in the table. The smell of old furniture is everywhere since the very beginning, but now it has intensified, as most of the papers that now lay in the table date from many years ago.

I tried to take one of them earlier, but my dad's eye stopped me. If there's anything that could stop me from doing whatever I'm doing, then that's my father's cold and piercing stare. In that second I need no more words.

Instead he feels free to take whatever is on the table. He looks between the papers and finally something catches his eye. It's an old photograph of a young woman with long, black hair, and deep eyes. She's holding a little baby in her arms, who smiles at her so curiously.

For a second his cold face reflects a glimpse of a smile, then it fades, I'm not sure if what I saw was actually there. About one hour we are still in the same place, but now it's later, about three am. My father tells me I should go to sleep, and I know I don't want to.

However he wins, he always wins, and drives me to a cold room of the house. There's only a bed, and it's full of spider webs. He hands me some blankets, and tells me to sleep because next day we leave to Japan.

I try to stop him, I ask him if he won't stay for when they burn her body. He shakes his head, and sighs. "But dad… she's your mother…"

"Calling her 'mom' was a mistake Gou. If your mother had been absent during the main years of your life you'd understand."

"You don't make mistakes that way. That scream was not a mistake, how can you call it so? She was your mother, dad, don't deny it!"

My father turns round and tries to close the door behind him, but I stop him, I can't allow this, we can't leave tomorrow, we have to stay for when they burn what's left of her.

"Gou." –he starts, I know he won't shout to me, my father has never done so but this tone of voice tells me he's angry, very angry. But is it at me he's mad?

"No dad. Think about this okay? – instinctively I grab his shirt and pull him back to the room. I don't think what I'm doing, as I would definitely like some time to explore the place myself, and as soon as he goes to sleep I'll have the place just for me. – you… you actually called her 'mom'. I know it was not a mistake. Think about the situation, subconsciously you know she's your mother."

"You won't ever understand it Gou. Your mother and I have been there, in spite of our jobs, to raise you, to listen to you, to help you, to bring you up, to love you. These two people … argh… they… they let _him _take me. And he took me, and brought me up his own way."

"Who is _him_?" I ask curiously. My father's breath hasn't changed, but I can see fear reflected in his eyes. A sign that never before had appeared in the crimson, cold orbs.

"I will explain it to you tomorrow, okay? In the train back home." He says, apparently he doesn't like talking about the topic. Nevertheless I want to insist.

"Tomorrow you won't speak and you know it as well as I do." I answer simply, to what he sighs, lowers his head and whispers to my ear, "I promise."

That sentence leaves me standing still, he turns round again and leaves the room, closing the door behind him and walking slowly. I can hear the wooden floor cracking under his feet, some steps and they stop, then the sound of a chair against the floor, and silence.

I frown, he is not going to sleep, he's going to talk to my grandfather again! And he left me here so I cannot listen to what they say! No way. I must find the way to get there. I open the door carefully, and only when the light coming from the hallway lights the room I realize my bag and my father's are now lying on the bed, together with the blankets my dad handed me minutes before.

I slowly walk on the wooden floor so that I don't make any noise that could spoil it. Suddenly I realize I'm not sure where I am heading towards, so I stop and look around.

I can see the door of the room I am supposed to sleep in, yeah sure, as if with 18 years old I would go to sleep now that I can explore the house, I can also see the room in which Halina's body is still lying… what makes me feel a little uncomfortable, but I suppress it and block any shiver, the door that heads to what I think it's a bathroom, the one to the living room and finally something catches my eye. Stairs.

I smirk, something interesting, a place from where I can listen to them without being seen, a place where I can find old stuff that tells me more about this house, these people. And mainly about my father's past.

I breath slowly, trying not to make any sound, but close my eyes strongly where I step in the wrong place and the wood creaks under my feet. My lungs close, my body stays still, hoping no one will come to see what am I doing when I'm known to be sleeping.

A chair sounds so close, sliding against the floor, someone stands up from the table and walks. The wood used in the floor of this house is so old that any noise is detectable even from distance. I can see a shadow coming from the living room, and plead to the God I don't believe in that no one comes to check on me.

Then I guess that maybe I should believe in him, or at least leave the open question about his existence, when the person walks away and returns to the table. I sigh lowly, and move my feet from the place I had placed it before.

I'm finally next to the stairs, I climb them up with no doubt, and move away the spider's web that covered the entrance to the attic.

Instead of finding what I thought was a typical attic, I am surprised by finding everything on it's place, tidied, clean and apparently visited often. I thought the attics were for saving things you didn't use anymore. Leaving the spider's web aside, together with the thin dust that covers the piles of books and papers, it's a nice place to spend, while understanding.

Someone coughs downstairs, reminding me of the other aim I had when I left the room. Slowly I kneel down in the floor, ignoring the dirt, and stick my ear to the wood. I can listen their voices, but they're speaking so low, apparently not to wake me up.

"Kai… I know you want to know about her, why don't you ask me?" my grandfather now speaks louder, as if trying to bring my father back from his thoughts.

"Thank you Demyan, but I can solve Halina's mystery on my own."

"I know you would like to ask me. I see it in your eyes, son. I'm old and maybe I can't help you with many things. But at least let me tell you what I know."

"What can you know that my mother has not written in all these sheets, plus the ones upstairs?" he asks coldly, and then I'm afraid he may come upstairs to check for more, so I stand up from the floor and look around.

A pile of books and a big shell grant me a good place to hide if anything happens. I think I can fit there, though I'm a bit tall I can find a way to put myself out of sight. I return to the floor, and now my dad is speaking again. But this time, in his voice I can sense a deep sorrow I hadn't noticed before.

"How could she go? She had so many things to do here still… she had to take care of a life she didn't take into account when it was the moment. She had a son to worry for, a grandson to be proud about, an entire life to live!"

The noise that my father makes hitting the wooden floor with his fist makes me gasp suddenly. I have seen him this way before, but I didn't think the death of his mother would make this effect. I believed him in the first place, that he didn't feel him as a mother. Yet I guess nothing on Earth will ever deny the bloodline. Not even my father's will, which is trying to break him apart from his parents. He knows he was born here.

As if in some strange way my mind and my father's were connected, the question my father makes the next second surprises me. "Demyan… how was I born?"

I can hear what I think is my grandfather's chair moving back, as if surprised for my father making a question. Then a 'well..' and finally a sigh. Then the sentence I was not expecting.

"You were born in this house. There was a heavy snowstorm outside. And your Mother gave you birth with no doctors." The silence I make upstairs is equal to the silence that surrounds the house after the words pronounced by the old man.

"That's.. that's all I wanted to know.- My father says uncertain, and then I hear once again the papers on the table, and the chair sliding on the floor. I frown and stand up suddenly. Watching through the hole on the floor, I see a shadow, specifically my father's shadow, getting close to the stairs. –I'll be back in a while, I need to check some things in the attic."

I don't know if my grandfather answered anything. I am no longer listening.

**TBC,**

**Review !**


	6. Understanding

**Finally! This is the last chapter of my story, the last part of my triology. Well, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it. Now it comes the epilogue and that's all. Basically this chapter is about relationships between the two men and young Gou, they're trying to understand eachother now that Halina's gone. If you read the whole triology, you'll realize she was always the one to pay attention to their relationship, and try them to interact one another. Now, they have to manage on their own and tension's in the air. Will Kai allow his father to act as a father, and a grandfather he is?**

**Read and review, hope you like! **

By the way, Beyblade belongs to Takao Aoki, while Halina Nukomo and Demyan Hiwatari belong to me.

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Forbidden

Chapter 5: Understanding.

I abruptly stand up from where I was lying on the floor, and walk towards the shell and pile of books that if Lady Luck is on my side, will cover me from my father's sight. Trying to control my breath I kneel down again and wait in silence.

I can see from here how my father's body comes up through the hole in the floor that leads to the stairs, and pauses before walking inside. He sighs, and whispers, "The last time I was here you found me, mom."

I can't help gasping when listening this for a second time. The way he doesn't accept it consciously, but says it when his barriers are low, is amazing. He puts one foot in the dusty floor of this room, and then the other one, he's inside. He breathes slowly, as if trying to smell the house. I know it because I've been doing it all the time since I came here.

He takes one book, like a diary, and then a key that's lying on the floor. "Dammit…" he whispers, while opening the book. "Just like the last time… just like the last time, WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO!!" he shouts, the impotence in his voice reflecting also in his eyes.

Then silence, and from downstairs I can hear something that makes my eyes go wide. A cry. A loud cry. Sobbing and hard breathing coming from the man that's sitting on the table downstairs. Then I can hear his voice, repeatedly saying the same, something like, "I love you Halina.."

My father sighs and raises his eyebrows, taking a quick look downstairs and then shaking his head in denial. His fists are tighten, and hold the diary firmly. _"Today you called me 'mom' for the first time. It was surprising, because we didn't know you could say anything yet, you were so young my little. I'm so proud of you, you make me the happiest mom in the entire world. The world.. some day we'll take you to see the world, there's much more to know there than staying here in Russia. I love the stories that talk about the world, it looks so different out there. There're plenty of things to discover, we'll chase them together some day, son."_

He reads out loud, in soft voice, what's written in the diary. Then he speaks to himself again. "I bet Demyan has no idea of what's written in here. She never got to do that trip around the world. Instead I traveled with the Blade breakers, and so I visited many countries. They didn't do it without me. They've stayed in Russia since they thought me dead… how fool."

He turns round two or three pages more, and finally he puts up his sight, and opens his eyes. "I bet she told nobody about her writing. There must be more than that. What if she..?" without finishing the question, my father starts walking towards the pile of sheets that hide me from his view.

I gulp and try to sink under the sheets, but it doesn't seem to work. My father removes the pile without thinking… and walks a step backwards when noticing my body there.

"Gou!" his mind seems to be recovering from the shock that finding me here gave him, but he doesn't show that in any way. Instead, his voice sounds mad at me and seriously wanting me back in bed.

"…Father."

"What were you…"

I stand up suddenly, and even though he's a bit taller than me, now I'm not longer in the floor and can, and will, confront him. "I want to know her as much as you do, Father."

He stares at me in silence, and after a cold moment in which the tension between us seems unbearable, he sighs and turns his head away. "Fine. I won't forbid you to know your ancestors any longer, Gou. But first you have to promise you will never betray yourself."

"How would I do that, dad?"

He sighs heavily again, and shakes his head. "Not all people in family are that nice."

" I mean… neither Halina nor Demyan look dangerous… what are you talking about?"

"You know nothing about my grandfather, Gou. We don't even know if he's dead."

"He is." Another voice, that now sounds weak, comes into the room.

"Demyan. So the old man is finally dead?" my father speaks so bluntly, as if trying to take importance to the matter of his grandfather.

"Who is your grandfather, dad?" I ask, he never told me anything, could he really be that bad?

"Your great-grandfather, son, -Demyan speaks up, placing a hand on my shoulder.- is the man… who took Kai away from us. He ruled an enterprise for years, his aim was to take over the world of beyblading and turn it into a tool, turning bladers into tools for his purposes." My father looks sharply at the hand placed on my shoulder. My breath has fastened a little, but distinct to what my father does, I give it no importance.

Crimson eyes meet mine, and I smile softly to indicate him it's alright. He frees the air he held on his lungs, and Demyan, noticing all this, separates his hand from me, and looks at Kai.

"Son. I don't want to hurt you and your family in any way. Trust me."

My father lowers his head, and whispers, "I wish I could, I wish I could."

"Listen. Take from here what you want, as for being your mother's belongings, they belong now to you, Kai. I suggest you all come downstairs and start selecting what to keep."

I stare amazed at him, what he has just said doesn't make any sense with the cry I heard today. But then I understand, that maybe this is an inherited ability, the one to turn from cold to warm from a second to another. Now he looks like if trying to do what he has to do, obeying principles, if he is to burn his wife's body, then that's what he'll do.

"Ain't we going to do any ceremony? No friends want to see her? No relatives?"

In my grandfather's face I can see an understanding smile. He shakes his head and answers coldly.. "further relatives are all dead, while she didn't mention anything about telling someone else about her death, so we should leave it that way. It will be okay for her."

My father nods, and I simply follow them downstairs. I notice my father takes a large pile of notebooks, sheets and papers, and instead of going towards the kitchen he goes to the room and puts them inside his bag. Back on the kitchen he does the same, saving some pictures and written things from her.

"What are you planning to do with all that?" I ask him, when I see him taking a big pile of sheets.

"You wouldn't guess what this is. But maybe your mother can help me with it.- He says, smirking. – my mother had a talent and I didn't discover it until her death. Now I'll give her the credit she deserves."

"What's that, son?"

"Hah, just some writings and stuff you wouldn't care about." His affirmation surprises both me and Demyan, we share worried looks, and then he sighs and shudders.

"If you say so."

Some hours later we've packed, and walk through the living room to the main door. I look at the clock in the wall, but it's stuck since twelve last night. I look at my watch, which shows six am.

"If you hurry, you'll be able to take the train at seven."

"I know."

"I know you want no taxis."

"You're right. We'll walk. It's not raining, so we'll have no problems with the books. Anyways, thank you."

"Thanks to you, son. For coming, for helping me with this."

"She is my mother. I wanted to be with her for the last minutes."

"You should have visited more often."

"Don't tell me what I should have done, and neither what I should do. The only one to decide that is me, and no one else."

At such rudeness my father shows randomly, my grandfather doesn't answer, and lowers his head in response. My father and I go through the main door, and I stand behind him. He stares at the eyes of his father, teeth clenched and fists tightened.

"I won't harm you, son."

"Demyan. Burn her, please. And spread her ashes where you think she would like it. You know her better than me, you lived more years next to her."

"I will, Kai. I will fulfill your mother's wishes. I promise."

Then he finally relaxes, and shows his right hand to his father. He takes it, and they shake hands slowly. Demyan can't help it and reaches my father's left shoulder with his left hand. "I'm sorry, Kai. I'm sorry for not being a good father."

"We'll talk about that the next time." Is my father's answer, surprisingly not trying to remove my grandfather's hand in any way.

Then they get apart, and my father walks a step backwards. I guess in the following second I will feel his hand on my back, pushing me forwards for me to say something to my grandfather. But instead of that, my father walks behind me, and an overwhelming silence only punctuated by the breeze of the cold morning air surrounds us three. Then I take a step, and stare at my grandfather's piercing eyes.

He's half a head taller than me, just like my father. He leans forward and surprises me, placing both hands at each side of my head, pressing his lips against my forehead.

I sense my father's body tenses, he wasn't expecting this. While I am relaxed, my fists aren't tightened at all and my hands reach my grandfather's shoulders. When we get apart from each other he seeks in my eyes, and I nod. I know what he wants from me. It's the same my father wants from me. I will become stronger.

I look at my father's eyes, and he nods, turns away, and starts walking beside me, heading towards the train station.

I turn round to take one last look at the house, that wooden door and small, old entrance that holds so much inside. That thing I've been looking for during my entire life, and now has so much meaning on it. I smile, and feel my father's hand on my shoulder.

I guess I will find the time to return on my own. There are things I'll never forget.

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**THE END**

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	7. Epilogue

Finally! The epilogue for this one and DONE with the trilogy! That means all my stories are finished and now I can get to sleep! xD no, I won't sleep, but will have time to gather new ideas for new stories! 

**I hope you like it, please review!

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Forbidden

Epilogue.

"_Storm cried out that night  
__Breaking silence in the sky  
__Raindrops held eachother tight  
__Watching angels, how they'd fly_

_I saw life come and go  
__Breathed away in silent stream  
__Saw my soul in ashes grow  
__In eternal chase for that dream_

_Oh, fool humans, how they'd waste  
__The land they were given to praise  
__Oh, come now son and embrace  
__The path you are meant to trace" _

"What are you going to do with it? What about the rest of them?"

"Your mother will help me with that. I think we will be able to publish them, I hope so." My father answers while I hand him back the old piece of rough paper.

"Are you sure she wanted them to be published?"

"That's what's written in her diary… in 1997, she tells her son she wants to publish a book for him some day." My father speaks about Halina as if she wasn't _his _mother.

"But she had no son in that time… she thought him long dead, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, yet she talked to him through her diaries and written jobs." Then he submerges again in another page, and I look through the dirty window of the train.

There's a rainstorm out there, and a lot of snow in the storm. It'll start melting slowly, if the snow in this place ever melts. It's cold all the time, but we're getting each time closer to Moscow, and there the snow disappears for a lot of time during the year.

My father is no longer tense, he seems to be accepting what has happened and in fact, he talked to me about Halina's work since we left Stadavok. Now he remains silent, and I feel a bit tired so I limit myself to look through the window and don't speak anymore.

I notice my father closes his eyes, and smiles weakly. Suddenly I realize he has fallen asleep. I put my hands on the pockets of my coat and search for something I put in it hours later. A paper I found in the floor of the room where my father wanted me to sleep.

I unfold it, it's a piece of school sheet of 5x3 centimeters. Then I look at what's written on it, it's almost erased by the pass of time, in blue tint, like the ones classmates and friends throw between eachother so that the teacher doesn't notice.

"_Halina Nukomo: 97th, Heathey st.,  
Stadavok, Russia.  
(Train leaves Moscow at 10, don't be late)" _

I have a strange feeling about it, and decide not only to copy what is written on it into my notebook, but to put the paper back where it was, in case my father knows about it's existence I don't want him to know I have it.

Won't I know now that when we arrive home and by mistake give my coat to my father, I'll find him an hour later with the paper in his hands, tears falling from his eyes.

**Well.. finally that's all. If you don't understand something please let me know, I know it's a bit confusing but if you paid attention specially at the beginning of the triology, you will know where that paper comes from.**

**Thank you to: Rina, Anna, Aeon, and everyone who has supported my story along the months it took me to finish it. **

**I love you!**

**Mikaera.**


End file.
